breathless
by Umbrella-ella
Summary: "She's forty six when it materializes, long past the age of child bearing, of being any use to a man whatsoever, if you ask her mother, and please, don't, thank you kindly. Alice Harvey is forty six years old, and she'd long since given up hope that a soulmate might find her." Cross-posted on AO3. Jean/Alice


Alice Harvey has taken to avoiding cafes, finding them to immutable points of connection for soulmates, for men and women, and women and women, and men and men, all of them drawn together by a single point of connection, a gossamer red thread. However, it's a muggy mid-January, and the cool sanctuary of her flat has been lost to the invasive heat of the hottest summer day on record in a good long spell.

The day is barely starting, soulmates and single people waking to a new dawn, and as such, this particular shop is empty, and Alice finds a rare solace; this quiet is calming, and she types out a few notes on an open document, turning the page in the book, and it's as though the words are pouring out before her fingertips, because she finds what she's been searching for and her fingers fly across the keyboard, tapping out a cadence with the speed of her thoughts.

" _It is suggested by modern science that soulmates are borne of a bond that is created through common interest and a desire to connect with others, and thus, theorized that the mateless have no such desire. In failing to create a bond, signaled by the appearance of a red string, the social ramifications of such a status can be difficult to navigate, as those who remain mateless are considered outcasts, and even further, those who embrace such a status are discriminated against. It is this social status that we are studying from a methodology that aims to observe, collect, and quantify the data present, hoping to prove that the soulmateless are, in fact, at little to no disadvantage in a world filled with obligatory adoration. DNA testing is yielding very little, but we have yet to collect from a mateless individual. This population pool is a tenth of a percent, and as such, double-blind testing is not a viable option._

 _Further—"_

A burst of noise startles Alice from her work, the door jangling gracelessly against her train of thought, and a huff escapes her as she observes a giggling young couple, their hands clasping together in a tangle of fingers and an unwillingness to part, the effusive joy permeating the air, cloying the atmosphere with happiness. A faint sensation of want tugs just behind her navel, and her heart grows heavy, and a stone forms, leaden in her stomach, a reminder of everything she _doesn't_ have.

She frowns.

The park beyond the polished windows looks relatively quiet, and so, Alice moves to pick up her work, packing up her computer and textbooks. For a moment, her brown hair is caught beneath the strap of her bag, so she takes a moment to flip out her hair and moves on. The air is syrupy when she ventures outside, though it's only just three minutes past eight; it will be far too warm to stay out past ten, so she sets a determined pace across the grass towards the bench boasting the most shade. Her flats sink into the lush, dewy grass, and her trouser legs will surely be soaked by the time she ventures into work later, but she doesn't particularly mind. If it makes her worm-faced arse of a boss squirm, then all the better.

As it happens, when she does venture into work, Danny, her understudy, comments on her state of dress, folding a warning within his words, his brows threaded together in worry.

"Y'know, Munro won't like that, Doc," he says as he thumbs through her notes, falling into step with her, his blue eyes skating across her statement.

"Bugger Munro and his priggish—"

"Doctor Harvey, how good of you to make it in today." Munro taps his way down the row of machinery, eying the monitors with a feigned curiosity, his shoes shining in the florescent light of the lab. His black suit stands out against the brightly lit confines of her laboratory, and Alice thinks that he looks as oily as his words tend to be.

Alice bends down, her glasses perched just so, reading out results from last night's labs that she had run before leaving late, disinterest coloring her actions.

"I'm here everyday," Alice remarks dryly, as though they haven't had this exact conversation a million and one times, and moves to find a piece of mail. The post in question doesn't need to be mailed out until Monday, but she can sense Danny's silent desperation to be free of Munro's critical, snide glare, and the second she gives it to him, he's practically bounding out into the corridor.

Alice's hands move to the workstation top, her jaw jumping when William nears her, his hand gliding across her back as he leans far too close, as though to read the results she is studying. His hand is warm, almost hot on the small of her back, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle up, and Alice can barely hold back the shudder that reels through her. For a moment, she imagines her hand cracking across one of his strong cheekbones, wiping the smarmy grin from his lips with nothing but a simple slap, but she swallows instead, her spine stiffening under his attentions, and her knuckles going white.

"Matelessness is not a free pass, Munro, as I have explained before; remove your hand. Now."

It is far from a question.

Alice is emboldened by the way his fingers twitch away in surprise. Her heart rattles and her hands tremble as she attempts to move away but a split second passes before Danny comes tumbling through the door, breathless and flapping the envelope wildly.

Munro's hand moves to his pocket with enough speed that Alice might think that Danny hadn't seen, if it weren't for the way Danny glances to Munro.

"Doc, you forgot to give me a stamp," he says, with just enough sincerity to avoid the questioning gaze of Munro, cold and sneering, "Sorry."

Danny's cheeks are flaming with the bold-faced lie, and if Alice were a stupid woman, she might believe his apology.

"Of course. William, if you could," Alice nods to the glass door, "I doubt you want to be here for the blood tests I'll be doing in the next few minutes."

A small quirk of satisfaction twitches at her lips, and she watches carefully as Munro retreats towards the corridor, adding, "I'll be down later to discuss funding issues."

Alice's ire rises, and she takes a calming breath as the door snaps shut, muffling the steady tap of Munro's shoes.

"You alright? Didja get to break a finger yet?"

"Fortunately for him, no," Alice pauses, searching through the coding of bases, her mind lost in the endless gene combinations, "besides," she mutters, "there was a stamp on that envelope, I put one on before I left last night. So, thank you for that."

Danny shifted next to her, even as she offers a tentative smile, instead opening his notebook and thumbing through the pages.

"Oh, you're scheduled to meet with someone that has a few questions about what the study is doing and why. Name's Jane? She's from a small paper, the Courier; it's local."

"I don't do meetings. I do the research, Munro goes to meetings." Alice clicks the pen in her hand, tapping out a beat against the counter as she reads off the data, circling various combinations.

"She seemed rather insistent that she meet with a representative of the lab."

Alice sighs, wheeling around to face her assistant, pen in hand as she gestures to him, "And _I_ am insistent, I don't do interviews. You know the data well enough, why don't you do it?"

Danny gulps, and he draws himself to his full height. Alice's shoulder slump, defeat creeping into her bones and weighing her down.

"The thing is— well, she sounded… determined-like, and she wouldn't take no for an answer, and well, she was very convincing."

"And?" Alice purses her lips, and her arms draw across her chest as if to look formidable, though she's not sure she feels quite as fearless as she looks.

"She's coming at two o' clock on Thursday."

Alice rolls her eyes. It's only Monday— she'll have enough time to make the necessary preparations.

"Small mercies, I suppose; I suppose she'll want a puff piece about how lovely soulmates are?"

Danny shuffles under her watchful gaze, suddenly seeming very interested in the way his shoelace has come undone and the careful morse code he scuffs against her pristine floor. His blond hair falls to the front as he looks up again, blue eyes, never anything but warm and kind, sparkling.

"Actually, she writes the science column. It's run bi-monthly— She's won the Stella Prize, you know, before she downsized to newspaper."

A thrill of intrigue runs through Alice, and it is as though live wire has been touched to a place just beneath her ribcage, animating her interest.

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" she says with more confidence than she has. If her voice trembles with nerves at the thought of being interviewed, then Danny doesn't remark on it, simply grinning, his lopsided smile calming her anxious thoughts.

"Now, if you please, could you send that envelope off when you go up?"

Danny grins, whistling a jaunty tune as he takes his leave, envelope clutched safely in his hand.


End file.
